


What His Uncle Didn't Know

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Empire - Fandom
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-12
Updated: 2012-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-14 02:56:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Octavius remembers when he first met Tyrannus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What His Uncle Didn't Know

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because it's criminal that there's not more fic for Empire.

What his uncle didn't know is that Octavius has already met Tyrannus once before. There's a hot feeling behind his eyes when he remembers that previous meeting, and now, as he walks behind Tyrannus down the wooded path, he wonders what the gladiator is planning. There's no way he could have forgotten the incident, any more than Octavius had. Even now he wakes in the night sometimes, sweating, and hard beneath his sheets, remembering the feel of the man's mouth on his cock.

It had been a party, one of many. He honestly wouldn't remember anything else about it, save that the girls clustered around him, giggling and coy and curious, had wanted to see a gladiator up close. So Octavius had sent a pair of guards to fetch the one he remembered from the most recent bout in the arena. The tall, muscled slave, known as Tyrannus. 

The girls, three of them, coo over the gladiator as he's led into the room. The rest of the party carries on, drunkenly. Octavius has already had one glass of wine too many. His head is fuzzy and his skin, pleasantly warm. 

“He looks so fierce!” Lavia giggles. 

The slave scowls at the ground. Which befits a slave really, but for some reason it annoys Octavius. 

“Look at me, slave.” He commands. 

The slave hesitates just long enough for the insolence to be deliberate, then obeys. His eyes bore into Octavius, and he swallows, nervous for the first time. 

“That was so masterful.” Calista purrs. She has a plan, and really, he should have realized that before. “I bet he serves well.”

“There is none better in the arena.” Octavius says, which is true...but for a moment there's surprise in the man's eyes, before he carefully conceals it. “What better way for a slave to prove his loyalty to his master?”

He does not imagine the flicker of anger in the man's eyes. It's there and gone, and Octavius reaches for more wine. 

“He could suck your cock.” Calista says innocently. “That shows a certain amount of loyalty.”

“Calista!” The other two are scandalized, but intrigued. They all look at Octavius, then at the gladiator. And he knows he lost before he even begins to protest. Really though, what is there to protest? It's just a slave.

“Up here.” He leads them to the corner where the couches are, and seats himself. The girls sit around him, angling for the best seat of observation. 

The slave hasn't moved.

“Come here.” Octavius calls, feeling childish. 

Slowly, the slave stirs at last, making his way slowly up the steps until he stands before the young Roman. Every last inch of him is foreign and resentful. Octavius hardens at the thought.

“On your knees, slave.” 

The gladiator kneels and looks up at him sullenly. 

“Go on.” Octavius sits back, clasping his wine. He tries his best to appear calm before his audience. “I'm sure you've sucked cock before.”

The slave places his hand on Octavius's thigh, pushing his tunic up. He pauses, but doesn't say anything, and then he lowers his head to take the Roman's cock in his mouth. 

“Gods.” Octavius makes an embarrassing sound as the man's tongue moves on him. By all the gods in all the heavens, he's never felt like this. He groans again, feeling heat flood his cheeks as the girls laugh. The slave is torturing his cock, taking him apart inch by inch. Unknowingly his hand has crept forward to tug at the man's hair, urging him on. 

Abruptly the slave stops. “Don't.”

“Get your mouth back down there.” Octavius orders. His cock is jutting out between them, desperate to be finished and the slave is just glaring at him, his hands on Octavius's thighs. 

“Don't _touch_ me.” The slave leans in, intent and menacing. His breath is hot on Octavius's cheek.

Octavius's hand wavers. He should strike the slave, him sent back to the ludus and punished. Yet something stays his hand, and he waits. Slowly the slave lowers his head again and this time there's a hint of teeth. Octavius's fingers dig into the arms of his seat as he groans and thrusts into the man's mouth. He's desperate and wanting and, gasps aloud as he comes, spilling down the gladiator's throat. 

Tyrannus sits back on his ankles, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. 

“That was...” Octavius's voice is unsteady. 

“I take it I have your leave to go?” The slave stands before he can speak, once more looming over Octavius.

“Yes,” Octavius pulls his tunic down hastily. “You can go.” He nods to the guards. “Take him back to the ludus.” His eyes watch the gladiator all the way to the door unil he's gone.

* * *

Now, walking upon the dirt road, wondering when Tyrannus is going to make him pay for it, it's killing Octavius. The sweat collects at his back.

“Just do it already.” He says at last, weary of this pretense. Weary of the gladiator looking through him as though he's nothing at all.

Tyrannus glances back at him. “Best keep up the pace. We have a lot of ground to cover before nightfall.”

“What do you want from me?” Octavius demands.

Tyrannus stops abruptly and turns to face him. “What do I want? I want to keep my vow to your uncle. I want to be a man of honor, unlike a privileged spoiled little boy who demands to have his cock sucked whenever it suits him!”

Shame stains Octavius's cheeks. Shame and anger. “You have no right to speak to me like that.”

“Don't I?” Tyrannus counters, moving in close until his body is almost touching Octavius's. “You're in my charge. Your uncle told me to look after you. I swore I would.”

“No one would blame you if,”

“Be silent.” Tyrannus roars, and Octavius obeys, frightened in spite of himself. They stand there in the middle of the road, just looking at each other.

“I want nothing from you.” The gladiator says at last. “I want to do my duty and see you safely home again. When it is time. Until then, I want you to keep your mouth shut and do as I say.”

His hand clasps Octavius's shoulder. “Can you do that for me, boy?”

Insulted, Octavius opens his mouth and then, “Yes.” He can do that.

“Good.” Tyrannus tightens his grasp on his shoulder for the barest moment, and then his hand is gone. 

They start again down the road.


End file.
